Relic

The age had changed. Relic sat behind his desk toying with his graying beard. The atmosphere of his shop filled only with the sounds of the station. The air vents blew recycled air readily, but Relic longed for the skies of Earth. His mission was the only thing keeping him from returning to the jewel of the Solar System until the Septain Civil War. Refugees from stations fled on any ships they could. Cargo ships, miners, fighters, all sending out distress signals to anyone that would listen. They arrived to stations across the sector and some even to Relic's shop.

The shop itself was a dinky thing. A small ring segment with only enough room for some light quartering accommodations and the shop itself. Ships docking was a rare experience for Relic. He didn't pay attention to the transponder beacon, only kept the constantly playing signal tell of his shop. He didn't care who walked in or when. A customer was a customer, and someone to share stories with. Relic had no good in greater stock than stories. Stories of the world that used to be everything. Stories of the departure. Stories of his encounters.

It had been 75 years since the humanity's first outpost, Armstrong, escaped Earth's sphere of influence. Since then generations have been born not knowing life with solid ground beneath their feet and a sky above their heads. Relic was one of the few still from the age before. Station by station, humanity expanded. Turning asteroids into new stations, new property, new nations. Territorial squabbles were expected to be left on Earth. However, bountiful mining meant that new stations were pumped out quickly and the number of upstart nobles grew even quicker and their conceit grew even quicker still. Rivalries became squabbles. Squabbles became skirmishes. Skirmishes became war.

The Septain Empire wasn't alone in a Solar System filled with chaos. Empires crumbled as their component stations rebelled and clashed with each other. Others rose by conquering those fighting amongst themselves. Others rode the waves of chaos and destroyed stations to salvage the wreckage. There were no death tolls recorded. Only the number of stations lost, their inhabitants too many to count.

With a population of 277, Relic's station was mainly Septans, though nobody identified their origin anymore. The ramshackle station was made of salvage and cobbled together ships in an effort to accommodate all that came. His shop at the center, operating as it had since day 1.

Relic jolted from his thoughts as the door opened. The young captain of the cargo ship that had docked earlier strode through the door.

"Welcome. The terminal on the left for supplies and fuel. Terminal on the right for materials and salvage. Other oddities around the room. And stories right here." Relic chimed.

"Here. This is our cargo. How much for it?" The Captain said briskly as he set a tablet on the desk with the manifest open. "I want to leave this 'station' as quickly as possible."

"Refueling will take 15 minutes a unit instead of the usual 10 today. Sit. We will kill time here." Relic replied jovially. "This is a station of peace, you don't need to run."

Over the years, the signs of a guest's troubles became easier and easier to read. Whether the Solar System was getting more predictable or if he was getting better at reading their faces, Relic had no clue.

"In that case I'll only get 3 units. I have no time to spare and no time to chat." The captain shifted his weight and looked at Relic, "And you don't want me staying here if you want to keep the peace."

"If you aren't the one threatening it, then we have no reason not to chat. I'll have a talk with whoever comes after you when they get here. Now then, the next closest station is at least a degree away. You'll need at least 4 units." Relic turned his attention to the manifest. "I'll be able to take all the salvage over 20% quality. The Nova Core rings will be something I can sell, so I'll take those. And I'll also take the half of the raw ore. That covers the 4 units of fuel as well as up to a week of supplies for your crew."

There would be no objections. Relic took worse quality salvage than any other station to support those living on the station. He never tried to overcharge for fuel. He had a reputation built on countless years of business and every captain worth anything knew of it. Relic had built himself a spot of unique interest in the Solar System.

Taking a final look at the manifest, his eyes caught on the last item on the cargo list. "What are these two crates listed at the end?"

"No clue. Picked them up three weeks ago from the remains of a pirate attack. They're all yours."

Reaching under the desk, Relic opened a hidden cabinet. "I have oddities everywhere in this store. You never know what someone might bring you so I take everything that could be of interest. Here. In exchange for the crates. I can't wait to crack them open."

"I've never seen one of these in person before."

The captain reached out to grab what Relic was handing him. A small, white book. Only about 100 pages thick with a blank white cover.

"It's from my time. Before you take a peek, let's talk. Tell me what stories you can about your life."

"I have nothing to tell you. I'm only 27 and haven't experienced anything of note. I graduated in the middle of the fleet class from my station and took on being a miner supervisor and a cargo pilot. I had dreamed of being a fighter since I was little, but I didn't have it in me." The captain stated with a hint of remorse in his voice.

"Do you live an interesting life? Going between stations, watching drones swarm around an asteroid for pockets of ore, spending time with your crew, or whatever else may happen?" Relic inquired.

"My crew is made up of people from my class or younger, but all from the same station. So we've more or less lived the same lives. Watching a swarm attack a rock is hardly entertaining after the first few times. Going to stations is nice, but we usually stop for so short that we don't get a chance to experience anything if we're allowed inside at all. The only thing I have to look forward to is the future but even that looks like a lot of the same." The captain seemed annoyed at admitting his discontent with his life.

The captain continued, "You know, you're an oddity, just like things around your shop. I've heard about you from my uncle back home. He told me of a lone shop floating through space. Only able to be found by the transponder signal as there's hardly any other activity around it. A station with a sole inhabitant. A man with an interest for the interesting. It seems like you've gotten some company since though."

"Did your uncle have one too? One of the books?" Relic's mind started sifting through all the stories he's heard and people he's met, trying to find a hint of familiarity between his memories and the captain in front of him.

"No. My uncle never left the ship and let others take care of it. 'I have no interest in a man sitting alone in a box all his life. Who knows what's happened to his mind.' Although I can't say I share the same sentiment as he did."

"Truly a shame. Who knows what story I might have told him. Still an interesting outlook at the same. Now it's my turn to tell you about myself."

Relic cleared his throat.

"I am from Earth. I'm not one of the Firsts, or even the Seconds or the Thirds. I was alone. Both on the planet and off. A life of boredom. Stagnation. The world was no longer interesting to me so I left. I bought a small transport ship and never looked back." Relic reminisced.

The captain was baffled. "If you had enough money to buy yourself a ship, how were you unsatisfied with life? You could have done anything on Earth. Why leave?"

"To meet interesting people. Like you, your uncle, the residents of this station. That is my mission in life. I've met a lot of people and regaled stories from my time on Earth to now. I've lived my life on Earth and I left to find something interesting to do. Never knowing when someone would dock here. Never knowing who'd walk through that door. Never knowing what they'd bring. Even visit was a surprise and an experience. They make my life more interesting and I try to make their lives more interesting as well. To me that is what it means to live. To live an interesting life. Even if I'm stuck alone a lot, being able to be a point of interest makes me happy. Maybe becoming a lord of a station was once a goal of mine in the back of my head, and I could be if I felt like it on this station that built on my shop, but I'm fine with what I have. I never got into the craze of declaring myself a noble and declaring my station as a nation. Living a life with little ambition is why I left Earth in the first place but I guess that's how I ended up anyway. It's rare to see that anymore. Everyone wants to be a fighter, or a noble, or a pirate. Learning to be okay with your lot in life might be a habit I still have from Earth. My outlook is much like that book and myself. A relic of Earth"